Can't Keep A Good Man Down
by Jimperbam
Summary: Jim gives his crew the slip to face charges for the destruction of a damaged Klingon vessel-a crime of which he is innocent. Jim turns himself in to Klingon forces but vows to himself that he will make it back to the Enterprise, come hell or high water.
1. Hypos

I would say I feel bad for this, but that would be a dirty lie. I've never felt less bad about a fic in my life. I likes me some hurt!Jim so I wrotes me some hurt!Jim. I am still working on Anika XII, I promise, but I finally got motivation to start this one. As always, thank you for the lovely reviews and favorites, and thanks for reading this one. OH ALSO I FORGOT-I'm sorry for making this multichapter? It's just that 99% of the time I WILL NOT read anything that is over 3 chapters or 4k words, so it's kind of hypocritical for me to make this a multichapter thing. Eheh. Sorry. But thank you for having a longer attention span than mine! 3

Disclaimer: No me ownsta.

* * *

Jim was, in many ways, like a blazing sun. Anyone around him became his satellites, and were affected by his flares of mood. When he shone, they grew brighter and happier. When he was clouded by thought or circumstance, they cooled down. The relationship was noticed by few, but it was an undeniable constant.

The weather was abysmal this particular day. It was nearly silent on the bridge; her residents reflected the wordless hurricane that was the captain. Jim hadn't moved since his shift began. He only spoke when spoken to. He simply stared forward without expression and almost without breathing or blinking.

The comm link on the chair beeped and a very irritated Bones called, "_Captain_, can I see you down here immediately if not sooner?"

For the first time in a while, Jim smiled faintly. "My pleasure, doctor. Be down in five."

Jim actually didn't dawdle on his way to sickbay. Before entering, he carefully arranged his expression into one of polite interest. He found the infirmary rather active; though no patients were on the roster, nurses and assorted staff were digging in cabinets, drawers, and even looking under beds.

Jim allowed a quick smile before returning to neutrality. "What's up, Bones?" he asked lightly.

"I'll _tell_ you what's up!" the doctor stormed. "I am missing crates full of hyposprays and several important pieces of medical equipment! They just disappeared overnight! Jim, I swear, if you had anything to do with this-"

"Bones, why would I sabotage the place that keeps me alive? I dunno what happened, but I'll look into it. Promise."

Bones looked slightly placated, but fired right back up when a nurse had a negative report for one of the storage rooms. Jim gave another small smile and leaned against a counter to wait. Bones ordered the nurse to look again and launched into a rant. "Of all the things. Why? Why hyposprays? Why couldn't someone have stolen all the socks? I am thoroughly convinced that I'm one of the few halfway competent people on this ship and why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you do when you're drunk."

Jim just grinned and changed the subject. "I'm sorry this happened. You do a great job, Bones. Best CMO I could ask for."

Bones squinted. "You _are_ drunk."

"If that's all, doc, I gotta get back. Good luck with your scavenger hunt."

Bones let it go. He had bigger things to worry about. "Christine, where the hell are the-there were a bunch of hypos _right here_! Are you kidding me?!"

Jim left his CMO to his mental breakdown. He felt slightly bad about the whole thing, but he was sure Bones would find all the missing materials in a few days. He would definitely get desperate enough to check down in the cargo bay. Jim walked with his arms to his sides to conceal the hypos lining the insides of his sleeves.

* * *

Spock waylaid Jim on his way back to the bridge. "Captain," he called, "I wanted you to look over this report of the incident with the damaged Klingon warship before I submitted it."

Jim groaned aloud. "Yeah, let's see it."

He scrolled through the report on the holographic PADD, only skimming for a few key phrases. "Looks fine. I see you included that we offered help, but they declined."

"Of course. It's one of the most important details of the incident."

"Great." Jim returned the PADD. "Really great. Send it on in."

Unfortunately for Jim, Spock fell into step beside him. "If I may," Spock began.

Jim rolled his eyes. "You're going to anyway."

"You've been very subdued as of late. Is everything alright?"

"Everything is...fantastic, Spock, just fantastic."

"Something tells me that's sarcasm."

"I'm just tired." And in a way, that was the truth. Jim was tired because of things that hadn't happened yet, but that was impossible to explain. "In fact...d'you mind taking over? I need to go to bed."

Spock frowned slightly. "Are you alright? Do I need to notify Dr. McCoy?"

Jim managed a laugh. "If I were you, I wouldn't bother Dr. McCoy unless it's a life or death situation. No, I just need a rest. Trust me?"

Spock nodded once. Jim watched him go with a feeling of resignation, then headed to his quarters to put some sleep hours in the bank.

* * *

The second Jim lay down for an early night, he wished desperately that he hadn't. Thoughts about the future swarmed his preemptively exhausted mind like ants to a piece of candy. Phantom soreness seeped into his muscles. He almost summoned Spock for a chat. His pride thanked him, however, for instead of that he called Bones.

"What?" Bones answered grouchily.

"Favor: send a sedative hypo to my room."

"What? Why? Are you sick?"

"Everything's fine. Just trust me."

Bones grumbled a moment but approved. In moments a hypo arrived in the transport slot. Jim eyed it, sighed, and flopped onto the bed before gently pressing the sedative into his neck. He mused in the seconds before unconsciousness that this would be the nicest sleep he'd get for a while.


	2. Neutral Zone

So I woke up this morning to 12 MESSAGES ABOUT THIS STORY. OMG YOU GUYS. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. It was so nice to see, especially since I had a really crappy night sleep wise. Wow. Thank you all so much. I feel kind of crappy repaying you with such a short chapter, but I'm very specific about my breaks. Rest assured that I'll have another chunk up either later tonight or tomorrow. Thanks again for all the support, and I hope you enjoy! Oh, also! For the Trek purists, I haven't watched TOS yet, so I got all my Klingon info from Google. Please forgive any issues.

Disclaimer: No me ownsta.

* * *

Jim returned to his duties the next day much more rested and ready to put on a face. He greeted the bridge crew with his usual cheer and even spun the command chair once before settling in. "I hope we're ready to go, because we've got a mission," he announced. "Mr. Sulu, set a course for outpost Celeste and let's get this show on the road."

"Aye, Cap-" Sulu examined the computer's projected path. "Captain, er...this course takes us pretty close to the Klingon neutral territory."

"I don't make the rules, Mr. Sulu, I just follow 'em. I'm sure it'll be fine. Don't you trust me?"

Sulu smiled and approved the course. "How can I not?"

Jim settled back in his chair. Once everyone was occupied, he surreptitiously opened his communicator. It would be approximately an hour and a half until they reached Celeste. He sent the pre-recorded voice file and tucked the communicator away. He now had half an hour to kill.

In a very Spock-esque move, Jim counted the minutes until his communicator buzzed. He felt the first vibration and flew out of his seat without a word. "Hang on," he whispered into the silver device, and literally ran to a deserted meeting room. He steadied himself with a breath. "I take it you received my message."

"We received your message," the growling voice on the other end confirmed.

"So you know what I've decided. We're about forty-five minutes from the Celeste. I take a shuttle into the neutral zone, you jam my tracking signal, you take me prisoner. You don't touch my crew. You do, and you'll regret the day I stepped foot on your ship."

"We Klingons, unlike you humans, are not without honor. Once you are in our custody, we will stop tracking your ship."

"Fine. I'll hail you when I hit the neutral zone. You better jam my signal the second I call or the whole thing will be a bust. Kirk out."

Jim leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for exactly eight seconds. He allowed himself eight seconds of vulnerability before he put a lid on all doubt and apprehension for the time being. He was Captain James T. Kirk. He kicked major ass on a regular basis. Facing a Klingon tribunal, probable torture, and possible execution would just be all in a day's work. Then he would come home and face the wrath of Bones and his army of recently-recovered hypos. Piece of cake.

"Piece of cake," Jim repeated. His voice was breathy, but it did not shake.

* * *

He paged Spock on his way down to the shuttle bay. "Hey, did you submit the report on the Klingon thing yet?" he asked.

"Yes, and there are a few admirals who want to debrief us when we arrive at Celeste."

"Ha, awesome. Can't wait."

"Jim. Where are you?"

Jim's stomach twisted. The fact that Spock had dared use Jim's first name while still on duty signaled a storm of concern and possibly suspicion, and that was not going to roll. "On the way to engineering," he answered normally. "Scotty had some worries. It's no big deal. Don't you trust me?"

"The fact that you've been saying that very frequently lately makes me wonder if I shouldn't."

"Oh, shut up and take the conn. I'll be back when I can."

"Are you going to say that you promise?"

Jim grinned. "You know me too well, Spock."

* * *

In the next fifteen minutes, Jim had stolen a shuttle, left the Enterprise, and was silently praying that no one would look out their window for a while. He hailed the Klingons as soon as the computer informed him of his entrance to the neutral zone. He did his best not to make a face at the scowling, ridged bust that appeared on screen.

"Your signal has already been cloaked," the Klingon rumbled.

"And my crew?"

"We are no longer targeting the Enterprise."

For the first time in two days, Jim breathed. "Alright. A deal's a deal. Beam me up, Klingy."

"Captain Kirk of Earth, you are charged with the wanton destruction of the damaged Klingon ship the Heghtay. You will be taken into custody to await trial. Power down your engines and get rid of all weapons. Be aware that we will use deadly force if you resist us."

"Deadly force. Shocking," Jim muttered when the comm window disappeared. "Guess Bones'll have his work cut out for him."


	3. Recording

I will never not thank you all for the reviews, follows, and favorites. It is those small gestures that let me know that you want the story to continue, and that means the world to me. So thank you so, so much. Here's chapter 3, only a day late! Again, expect another chapter within at least two days. I especially want to note Sapere's review-she was using her head! Just _why_ would Jim surrender so easily? He clearly knew that there was a considerable threat to the Enterprise. He has no idea just how big that threat is, or that it's not just limited to his beloved ship.

Disclaimer: No me ownsta (I like this disclaimer. This will be my disclaimer.)

* * *

The cells in the brig of the Klingon ship were unsurprisingly small and dingy. Jim preferred to stand, seeing as he couldn't even fully stretch his legs. He sucked inspiration from the distant stars that floated by. He would need terrabytes of backup plans if he was going to return to his ship alive.

Kronos sailed into view, just as grey and uninviting as Jim remembered. New satellites had popped up since the last time he'd been there. He counted them lazily until he noticed one that made him press his face to the window.

It was a long cylinder suspended in the vast nothingness. The structure would have been rather unremarkable had vessel upon vessel not entered one side and, after a flash of light, failed to come out the other end.

"What is that?" Jim asked aloud. He didn't expect an answer, but the Klingon guarding his cell turned.

"Wouldn't you like to know," the guard sneered.

"I've never seen anything like it."

"That's because there _is_ nothing else like it. The Federation has been treading so carefully, doing its best to avoid war with the Klingons. It was an unwise decision."

Jim thirsted for more information, even if it came in the form of thinly-veiled threats, but he decided it was better if he refrained. He pressed his nose against the window again and tried to work out its operations from afar. In the twenty minutes it took to pass it, all he had gained was a deep sense of foreboding. He didn't have time to continue ruminating, however-they had landed, and it was time to put on his game face.

Jim was yanked out of the cell and all but dragged through the dark corridors of the ship. He allowed the treatment, figuring it was a bit too early to make waves. Instead he set to work memorizing the layout of the shipyard to aid in his escape. He made sure he could navigate the twisting halls of the new prison. By the time he was thrown unceremoniously into a hold not much larger then the previous one, he was relatively confident that he could at least exit the dungeon. The barred door clanged shut, and Jim was left in silence and solitude.

* * *

Spock did not frequently get irritated with his captain. True, Jim possessed quirks that Spock found counterproductive, but tardiness was not one of them. He checked the time on the scrolling digital display. They were ten minutes late for the meeting with their superiors. He hadn't expected this; Jim had sounded unsarcastically pleased at the rendezvous.

He decided to ring the one person who should know the whereabouts of the captain. "Dr. McCoy, would you please tell the captain that he is late for the debriefing and to get here as soon as possible?"

"What're you callin' _me_ for?" Bones answered irately.

"The captain is not answering his communicator."

Bones huffed. "Not like him to be late. I'll look for him. Try him a couple more times."

Spock did as Bones suggested. The lines never connected.

Bones, meanwhile, stomped up to Jim's room and found it empty. He checked the mess hall, the bridge, and even the unused storage room Jim liked to haunt when he needed time alone. He didn't know whether to be even more infuriated or worried.

Spock began a game of phone tag and got everyone in on it. At least a hundred calls back and forth were exchanged in ten minutes. The efficiency of the system spread the word all over the ship that the captain was missing in action. The unanimous report was that no one recalled seeing Jim after he dashed out of the bridge the previous day. With the crew in an uproar, Spock excused himself from the meeting and returned to the Enterprise.

No sooner had he stepped aboard than his communicator rang for the thousandth time. It was Sulu. "Found something," he said shortly. "Bridge. Hurry."

Spock jogged the rest of the way to the bridge. Everyone was huddled around the display. "What did you find?" he demanded.

"A wideo," Chekov murmured. "Sent vith a timer. Eet just popped up."

The recorded message rolled. The camera shuffled a moment, and Jim peered into it. "Hey," he said, flashing a grin. "I mean, uh-attention. This is Captain James T. Kirk, and I'm only reminding you of my rank because I'm about to give some orders that *will* be followed, or I will court martial your asses. I've gone on what will probably be an extended trip. Spock's in charge, so be good. You will stay at the Celeste until I get back or you receive an urgent mission. God help you if you think I'm kidding. Stay. At. Celeste. Also, Spock, make sure you go to that debriefing and give those suits your report. Make sure they are completely aware that the damaged Klingon ship refused our help. Okay, I think that's all. Remember: court martial. Kirk out."

The recording fizzled out, leaving the bridge in silence. Spock stood statue still, replaying every frame in his mind. There was no logical explanation for the video or for Jim's abrupt departure. The only clue was him pressing the matter of the meeting. It seemed of the utmost importance to Jim that the Starfleet officials were made aware of every truth of the Klingon incident. Spock crossed his arms as he drew tenuous conclusions.

"Well then...Captain?" Sulu looked up at Spock. "What are we going to do?"

Spock examined the expressions of every person gathered there, took into account what Jim may have planned, and exhaled. "We follow the orders until more information becomes available," he said as neutrally as ever. "You will all be kept updated, but for now, you're all dismissed."

Most of the gathered crew dispersed. Bones was not among them. "Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!" he raged.

"Jim is alone in God knows where doing God knows what and you want to just sit here?"

"Those are the orders, Dr. McCoy. I am no happier about it than you are, but to send out a search party with this lack of information would be counterproductive. As undesirable as the situation is, all we can do is wait."

The only thing that kept Bones from strangling Spock was the memory of how poorly Jim did in his fight against the Vulcan. He stormed out, cursing and muttering to himself.

"Keptin?" Chekov piped up hesitantly. "Keptin Kirk vill be...alright, yes?"

Spock recalled the briefness of the grin that opened the video. "I usually find hope illogical, but a little of it now would not go awry."


	4. Unforgotten

Okay. Wow. Sorry for the delay, I really am. There was writer's block, birthdays, work...but enough excuses. Thank you all for being so patient, and I appreciate the new favorites and reviews! I can't say this is my favorite chapter, but I had to power through it so I could get rolling again. If all goes according to plan, I could see...five more chapters at most? We'll see. I'll also be posting a kind of apology oneshot soon BECAUSE I GOT ST:ID AND I'M STILL ON A HIGH SO YEAH MAN. Also, all Klingon translations were done with the help of Google, so excuse me if there's anything wrong. Alright, without further ado!

Disclaimer: No me ownsta.

* * *

Sleep evaded Jim that night, but he hardly missed it. He spent the evening reviewing every xenolinguistics class he ever bothered attending in hopes of resurrecting some Klingon. Speaking the language probably wouldn't earn him any points, but it reassured him to know that he would hopefully be able to tell if they were about to execute him. There were plenty of years' worth of dust on those lessons; it was slow going to form a basic sentence. Jim wished he had Uhura's brains. He smiled as he recalled how she laid it down at Ketha. She was a natural.

The relatively pleasant memory was shattered by harsh clanging on the bars. Jim jumped and looked up. It was just breakfast. The guard threw a blackened bun through the small opening. It _thunked_ on the concrete floor, which really did not make Jim too keen on eating it, but he was hungry and it was something. He gnawed unsuccessfully at the burnt shell. He tried cracking it on the wall.

"Oh, forget it." Jim tossed the inedible lump in the corner. "It'd make a better weapon than breakfast anyway."

He settled back to resume re-education and noticed that the guard hadn't moved on. He raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

The Klingon stared hard at Jim for a few more minutes, then called down the hall. A comrade joined him and they launched into an intense conversation. Jim listened intently. The pair spoke much too rapidly for him to understand every word, but he caught _fight_, _kill_, and Ketha. The final phrase didn't sit well with him.

"_Pong_," the new guard barked.

_Pong_? Jim wracked his brains. "Um...I...name! Jim-Captain James Kirk."

"Kirk." The morning guard nodded. "_Hija_."

They departed in the direction of the prison entrance, leaving Jim with a rock the size of the bun in his stomach.

* * *

"He couldn't have gotten far," muttered Bones over his third glass of whiskey. "Those shuttles don't reach warp. He's gotta be somewhere nearby."

The statement was received with silence by the gathering. They'd been holed up in a meeting room for so long that Chekov had dozed off, communicator clutched tightly in hand. The conference was unplanned, yet somehow everyone knew that they had to identify their captain's whereabouts. Spock was fully aware of his orders and the consequences should he ignore them. In spite of that (or perhaps because of it), he opened the discussion on how they could at least deduce where Jim had gone. All the hours yielded nothing but exhaustion, worry, and shortened tempers.

"There are not many habitable planets or installations within reasonable distance," Spock murmured. "There is only our location, Fargo Nine, and..."

Spock rarely left a sentence unfinished; he needn't have completed it. There was only one remaining possibility.

"What's on Fargo Nine?" Sulu's question was muffled due to his face being nestled in his arms.

"It is, to our knowledge, an uninhabited planet."

"Jim wouldn't," Bones snapped. "He's an idiot, but he's not stupid. What's he got to do on Klingon?"

"It hardly matters. What does matter is that a rescue mission would be impossible at best, even if we knew his location."

Bones leaned his head back on his chair. "So what exactly are you suggesting? Are we supposed to just leave him to fend for himself?"

Spock sighed. "Not at all, doctor. I am suggesting that we comb through every bit of our _dear_ captain's personal messages, files, and assorted effects dating at least two weeks leading up to his departure."

Sulu actually giggled. "Oh, he'll love that."

"Doesn't matter." Bones flipped his glass. It clinked on the table with finality. "Kid should've thought of that before he disappeared on us. Let's get going."

* * *

Jim discovered that soaking the bread brick in his ration of murky water softened it enough to eat. It tasted like sawdust. He ate slowly, methodically chewing each bite, trying to push away the implications of the exchange outside his cell.

He remembered the incident at Ketha all too vividly. It was sheer luck that all-out war hadn't come of it. They had Khan's killer efficiency to thank for that. But if no Klingons walked away from Ketha, how could they have connected his face to the massacre?

The answer was clear, and it just made Jim sigh.

They came for him that evening. They quite literally drug him to a small court room of sorts, where he was cuffed to a chair. The trial-was it a trial? Jim knew nothing about the Klingon justice system; was it always this disorganized and loud?-began, and words in harsh tones flew from everywhere. Witnesses spoke over one another. A few things were thrown. The mood was just under boiling point, and it made Jim very uncomfortable.

He twisted his wrist in the tight shackle. This earned him a brutal smack from his watcher. Jim got the message. Instead of hoping against hope for a daring escape, he focused on combing the chaotic conversations for information. Most of them spoke too quickly to comprehend, but he did catch multiple mentions of Ketha.

"I didn't do it..." he murmured.

Some of the Klingons in his vicinity turned to stare at him. Slowly the entire gathering quieted. Jim flushed but decided it was worth a shot.

"I didn't do it," he repeated more strongly. "Ketha-it was a misunderstanding. The man responsible was a fugitive we tracked to the region. He fired first. The Federation never meant any harm to come to your people."

The court room erupted. Jim was yanked from the chair by two guards. He blinked around, bewildered. "It's the truth!" he shouted to the furious gathering. "I didn't-it wasn't me, it was-"

Who it really was clearly didn't matter. The guards threw Jim back in his cell. It was the final straw. "You're not even going to listen to me? What was the point of bringing me here, then?"

He slouched irritably against the wall. He didn't know why he thought that everything might go smoothly. When did it ever? Klingons had long memories-too long. The next time he was engaged in an isolated incident with Klingons, Jim made a mental note to finish the job.


End file.
